Beauty In The Beast
by WaxSatanic
Summary: Spoilers if you haven't read book four...but I'm assuming that everyone reading this here has by now, lol. This takes place sometime during book four. Lucifer is being held by Verchiel at St. Athanasius, strung from the ceiling in chains.


This was so hard not to make slashier than I did. Seriously...book four gives my yaoi bunny so much ammunition it's not funny. Anyway...enjoy. I may do a part two or something with uber-slashiness, but we'll see.

**Rating:** NC-17...I think.  
**Characters:** Verchiel, Lucifer and Kraus. Brief mention of the mouse.  
**Warnings:** Blood, nudity, violence, bondage, blasphemy, spoilers.  
**Summary/Setup:** Spoilers if you haven't read book four...stop reading now if you care. This takes place sometime during book four. Lucifer is being held by Verchiel at St. Athanasius, strung from the ceiling in chains. Verchiel is still haggared and less-than-healed from his injuries sustained in battle. Both are naked and battered, the Powers commander bloody and wrapped in bandages. Lucifer awakens from unconsciousness only to be tortured further by his captor.

**Beauty In The Beast**  
**or Caught: Red-Handed**  
A Fanfic of The Fallen  
by Erek Morningstar

"Men never do evil so completely and cheerfully as when they do it from a religious conviction."  
- Blaise Pascal (1623 - 1662)

  
The first of the Fallen could not be certain exactly how long he had been unconscious this time, but he could see through a tiny window nearby that it was night and must have been for quite a while now. Every inch of his shell ached, and he wondered which caused him more pain at the moment, the physical tortures he was forced to endure of the constant Hell raging inside him. Each time he was embraced by sweet oblivion, his mind had wandered to thoughts of her, to Taylor, but not this time. The dreams of his latest blackout had only been of his captor, and he mused whether this was the next step of his damnation, to be separated from the only remaining memories he had of her. 

The Almighty could never be so cruel.

However, Lucifer would not put it past the pale angel of the Powers host to demand that the Archons work their angelic magicks to rid him of the only contentment he had left. Verchiel seemed not to have noticed that he'd awakened, and he was grateful for that. He shifted his eyes around the floor beneath him, careful not to move his head for fear of being noticed by the Powers commander searching for his only remaining ally, but it was nowhere to be found. The poor creature had no doubt been frightened off into the shadows by Verchiel's latest assault on the Morningstar.

"Awake I see," said a painfully familiar voice from across the room. Lucifer winced in anticipation of what would happen now that Verchiel knew he had stirred from unconsciousness. He strained to lift his head, the muscles in his neck already threatening to give under the strain, but he ignored the pain.

"I was unsure about this new look of yours, Verchiel," Lucifer managed to get out hoarsely. "But now, I think it is beginning to grow on me." Verchiel frowned at the fallen angel's comment, dismissing his healer Kraus with a hiss and rising from the bleachers of Saint Athanasius' gymnasium so that he would be alone with the first of the Fallen. "Although," he continued, adding a faint smirk. "It leaves little to the imagination. I would expect an angel of the Lord such as your self to display just a touch more modesty."

Lucifer barely had time to notice the hand coming at him before he was struck, his head jerking to the side with the impact of Verchiel's blow. He gritted his teeth painfully as he forced himself to raise his head once again. "You know," he began. "Slapping is a very womanly reaction. I would question you about that if I were not face-to-face with contradicting evidence."

"Insolent even in the face of your own demise," Verchiel grumbled, narrowing his eyes at the angel in restraints before him. "How...human."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Lucifer retorted. "You keep saying things like that, Verchiel, and it makes me wonder why you never stood with me against the Creator all those years ago."

"Silence," the pale angel raged. "One such as yourself does not even deserve to speak my name, let alone the Lord's."

Lucifer could not help rolling his eyes. "Were you always this melodramatic? Forgive me if I never felt it necessary to take notice of you before."

"Forgive you," Verchiel replied, lifting his bloodied and bandaged brows. "That is quite the tall order you ask of me. If it were not for what I will accomplish here, I do fear the Lord would be mad enough to grant the request of such an abomination as yourself. Fortunately for Him, I am here, and I will see to it that His Paradise is not tainted with your presence ever again."

The Morningstar lowered his head, more out of weariness than Verchiel's words, gazing upon the ever growing pool of blood at the feet of the Powers commander. "Your present condition might suggest otherwise," he added as he lifted his eyes to the figure before him. Lucifer did see this strike coming and managed to brace himself, if only a little, before it hit its target. "I should have known you'd be such a sadist. You may claim all you do is your duty to the Creator, but I see in your eyes how much you enjoy inflicting pain."

Verchiel took a reddened step forward, standing close in front of his prisoner and looking him over appraisingly. "I can imagine that the pain you endure internally is no match for what I can inflict upon you. However, let me see what I can do to remedy that." He turned away from Lucifer, leaving a trail of bloody footprints behind him as he made his way over to a small table where Kraus kept his tools of healing. He appraised each item through locks of stained hair and weeping bandages, finally retrieving an archaic looking scalpal from the lot and striding barefoot back to his captive.

Lucifer looked on nervously as he watched the white-haired angel inspect the razor-sharp device in his hand. After a moment of thought, Verchiel closed the distance between himself and the first of the Fallen, pressing against the other angel and lowering his arm. The Morningstar gasped as he felt the cold metal of the blade press up against the underside of his manhood, eyes widening in mild horror and turning his head to look up at the Powers leader.

"Perhaps it is not I who could do with some added modesty," Verchiel taunted, tilting his head a bit and smiling cruelly as he began to increase pressure on the handle of the blade. "This 'little' appendage of yours is, after all, responsible for all of our misery. What a service I would be doing the Lord by ridding you of it." Verchiel's hand twitched in anticipation, causing Lucifer to whimper and hiss in pain as the blade sunk just barely into his flesh.

"Now, now, Verchiel," the Morningstar breathed out, smiling faintly despite his impending journey to joining the eunich club. "Wouldn't that be destroying precious evidence?"

Pursing his lips as he considered the angel's words, Verchiel's pressure on the scalpal waned. "Perhaps you are right," he smirked. "It would be such a shame to disfigure such 'perfection'." With that, Verchiel's smirk turned into a snarl and he plunged the entirety of the blade deep into the groove that separated Lucifer's hip from his torso, twisting the scalpal before jerking his hand upward and slicing a good foot-long gash into his flesh. Lucifer screamed as the metal tore mercilessly through his skin and muscle, closing his eyes tightly and whining in pain.

Verchiel threw the blade to the floor behind him and brought his hand, now unoccupied, to the wound he had just made in the bound angel. He traced his fingers along the edge of the cut almost tenderly, pressing against the Morningstar and bringing his mouth close to the fallen angel's ear so that he could whisper to him. Lucifer didn't know which pained him more, the gash or the feeling of the soldier of God's bandages against his skin, soaked in the cold and drying blood of Heaven.

"Give in, Lucifer," Verchiel purred. "You and I both know it is only a matter of time before my will is realized by all."

Lucifer shuddered, refusing to turn his head to look at the Powers commander even though Verchiel's breath on his ear made him shudder. "Your will? Don't you mean His?"

"You heard me correctly the first time, demon," he smiled, plunging a finger or two into Lucifer's wound. The Morningstar cried out, sending a shiver up Verchiel' spine and causing his eyes to roll back in unacustomed ecstacy at the glorious sound. "Mmm, weep for me as your wound does, Lucifer," he whispered, brushing his lips against his ear. "Tell me how much it hurts you to be denied the presence of God. Confess to me...every...tiny...sensation" Verchiel's hand plunged deeper into Lucifer's affliction with each word, driving every syllable into the very core of his being.

Lucifer struggled for words, threatening to succumb to oblivion once again but willing himself not to give in so easily. "I think," he gasped. "You'd have a good idea by now." He was, needless to say, surprised as he felt Verchiel's fingers withdraw from his wound, but he should have anticipated what was to come next.

Verchiel snarled into the Morningstar's ear loudly as his hand drew back, clenching into a fist and plunging deeper into the bloody opening. Lucifer imagined the angel ripping out his very entrails as the darkness overcame him once again, closing his eyes and welcoming the descent with relief. When he would inevitably awake, however, he would discover that was not the case. When the pale figure made notice of his captive's return to unconsciousness, he withdrew his hand, resting it gently over the fallen angel's injury, revelling in the blood that seeped through his fingers.

"Mmm, good boy," he whispered, almost nuzzling Lucifer's hair as he pulled his head back to gaze upon a task well done. Lifting his hand, he watched what little light there was in the room dance over what he held of Lucifer's blood. The way it glittered on his pale skin, such contrast, was almost beautiful to him. But more beautiful was the poetry to come. Perhaps even one such as Lucifer would be granted forgiveness for the part he was destined to play in his great plan. Perhaps even himself.

Verchiel tore himself away from the Morningstar almost reluctantly, eyes fixed on his red right hand as he walked away, not noticing the trail of blood he left in his wake. Reclaiming his seat on the bleachers, he brought the hand to his lips, brushing them against the cooling liquid briefly before snaking his tongue out to have a taste, looking through his fingers over at the collapsed and strung form of Lucifer. It was only then his attention was drawn away, replacing his tongue back into his mouth and lowering his hand quickly as he narrowed his eyes in Kraus's direction. He had no doubt heard the commotion and had returned to check on his beloved master.

"Tend to him," he snapped. "And bring me a cloth to wipe his filth from my skin." Kraus bowed his head obediently and hurried off once again to collect some necessary supplies. Closing his eyes to block out what his newly restored sight had just witnessed. Now that he had been given a vision of Heaven, he secretly wished for damnation.

Once the healer was gone, Verchiel turned his gaze back toward Lucifer. "Rest now, while you can," he said quietly. "You will need your strength, and so will I."

††††††††††††††††††

**Red Right Hand**  
by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds

Take a little walk to the edge of town  
Go across the tracks  
Where the viaduct looms,  
Like a bird of doom  
As it shifts and cracks  
Where secrets lie in the border fires,  
In the humming wires  
Hey man, you know  
You're never coming back  
Past the square, past the bridge,  
Past the mills, past the stacks  
On a gathering storm comes  
A tall handsome man  
In a dusty black coat with  
A red right hand

He'll wrap you in his arms,  
Tell you that you've been a good boy  
He'll rekindle all the dreams  
It took you a lifetime to destroy  
He'll reach deep into the hole,  
Heal your shrinking soul  
Hey buddy, you know you're  
Never ever coming back  
He's a god, he's a man,  
He's a ghost, he's a guru  
They're whispering his name  
Through this disappearing land  
But hidden in his coat  
Is a red right hand

You ain't got no money?  
He'll get you some  
You ain't got no car? He'll get you one  
You ain't got no self-respect,  
You feel like an insect  
Well don't you worry buddy,  
Cause here he comes  
Through the ghettos and the barrio  
And the bowery and the slum  
A shadow is cast wherever he stands  
Stacks of green paper in his  
Red right hand

You'll see him in your nightmares,  
You'll see him in your dreams  
He'll appear out of nowhere but  
He ain't what he seems  
You'll see him in your head,  
On the TV screen  
And hey buddy, I'm warning  
You to turn it off  
He's a ghost, he's a god,  
He's a man, he's a guru  
You're one microscopic cog  
In his catastrophic plan  
Designed and directed by  
His red right hand

He's a...

He's mumbling words you can't understand  
He's mumbling words behind his red right hand.


End file.
